


Wings Wouldn't Help You

by seratonation



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, M/M, Ocean, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Rated E for sex, Relationship(s), Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, icarus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The instinctive drowning response is when drowning doesn’t look like drowning. It is silent and still and it will take anyone that tries to stop it. </p><p>The one where Bucky is Icarus, and he looks at Steve like he is the sun, but Steve is the ocean, and Bucky is drowning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings Wouldn't Help You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [earlofcardigans](http://archiveofourown.org/users/earlofcardigans/pseuds/earlofcardigans) and [dragmelody](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragmelody) for the beta/encouragement/hand holding. <33
> 
> Title from Roslyn by Bon Iver.
> 
> See the end notes for warnings.

It didn't start like this. It had started with innocent touches, and secret smiles. It started with soft kisses and hand holding in the dark. 

But as Bucky stumbled home, smelling of smoke and alcohol and perfume, as he nuzzled his nose into Steve’s neck, he thought he liked this better. If it was going to end like this he’d rather it was with Bucky inside him, rocking them together, his eyes wide and pupils blown. 

Steve really didn’t mind at all if it ended like this. 

***

Steve hadn’t been prepared. He was expecting capture, or torture, he had even steeled himself for death but this-

“I thought you were dead.” It’s the first thing he found himself saying once they were alone and curled up on one bed. It was just like the old days despite the smaller beds and Steve’s bigger size.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, even though he doesn't look it. He was too pale, the bruises on his chest and back standing out, and the dark circles under his eyes making his face look sallow.

“Oh Buck.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bucky said, “I don’t even hurt all that much anymore.”

Steve slowly ran his fingers over the smooth skin of Bucky’s fingers, stopping at his wrist. Bucky’s whole body tensed under his hands then relaxed. 

“You can touch them if you want,” he said, so kindly that Steve found he wanted to cry. 

He moved upwards, finally. He ran his fingers over the ugly scars on Bucky’s wrists, over his inner arm and around his biceps. They’ve healed now, much faster than Steve would have thought, to leave nothing but mottled skin. 

Bucky shifted under his hands, and the scars pulled strangely at his skin. “Did it hurt?” he asked, an echo of what Bucky had asked him only a few days ago.

“A little,” Bucky replied, and Steve caught the edge of a smirk. 

“Bucky,” he said, his heart in his throat and Bucky looked up at him. Steve quickly wiped at his face but there wasn’t much he could hide from Bucky, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Steve,” Bucky said, more gently this time. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, effectively hiding the scars. “I’m fine, I’m alive, it’s more than I thought possible a week ago. You saved me.”

“I was too late,” he sobbed.

“There’s no way you could have known.”

Steve couldn’t reply. He held onto Bucky, and thought that maybe he should have seen it coming. 

***

“You should go home, Bucky,” Steve said the night before the Commandos shipped out. It was probably too late, but Steve had to try one more time. 

“Not this again,” Bucky said, sitting on Steve’s bed as Steve finished packing.

“You’re injured,” Steve said, “no one will judge you for it-”

“And let you have all the fun?” he replied, but his smile looked forced, his voice tight.

“You’re in pain,” Steve insisted.

“I’ll manage,” he said, “you’re not going to change my mind.”

***

It started with them slowly edging closer to each other, an inch closer every night. No one talked about it. No one mentioned how eventually they were sleeping in the same space, their mats touching. 

No one mentioned how they woke up wrapped up around each other. How they seemed to share their space, even in waking. How they shared secret smiles, and gentle touches. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Steve whispered one night, when he was sure the other Commandos were asleep.

“Me too,” Bucky whispered back, half asleep, “look what happened when I left you alone.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, reproachfully. 

“I know, I know,” Bucky replied softly, burying deeper into the covers.

“I just, feel bad, for putting you in danger.”

“You didn't put me here, buddy,” Bucky said, “I was here first, remember?”

“You should have gone home,” Steve said, “but I’m glad you didn’t.”

He saw Bucky smile and close his eyes. “I’d have died at home, not knowing where you were.”

Steve tightened his grip around Bucky’s waist and closed his own eyes. “I know.”

***

Steve didn’t sleep a lot these days. He went to bed more out of habit than any real need for sleep. He felt tired, of course, all the time it seemed, but sleep evaded him. 

He thought about those nights a lot, trying to change Bucky’s mind, to make him go home, and then being so selfish as to be glad he didn't.

He went through the conversation, over and over. He tried to think of a hundred different ways it could have gone, things he could have said. Ultimately, he knew that Bucky was just as stubborn as Steve was, if he wanted to be. 

It was a small, cold comfort. 

He did sleep, occasionally. He could never figure out how to make it happen more often, or regularly. It was only ever for a few hours at a time, nightmares waking him up in a cold sweat. 

But the thing about nightmares was that if you have them often enough, they just became an annoyance. Another thing that happened, another thing out of his control. Sometimes, if it was early enough he would get up and start his day, most nights though, he would roll over and hope that sleep took him. If he woke up again, well, it’s just part of life. He was used to it by now. 

***

Steve still didn't sleep a lot, but Bucky was home. He’s _home_ , just in the next room and Steve had to stop himself from getting up and checking to make sure he was actually there. 

He had done that a few times at the beginning and got himself almost killed for his troubles. Bucky was getting better and Steve had to hold himself back from smothering him. 

So here he was, counting sheep, then just counting numbers, first one way, then backwards. He tried to regulate his breathing, but nothing was working. 

When he heard a sound, he resisted the urge to jump out of bed. “Bucky?” 

Bucky didn't reply, just softly padded towards the bed. Steve moved aside to make room for him, just in case this is what Bucky wanted but didn't know how to ask.

To Steve's relief, Bucky climbed in with him, a little awkward before pulling the sheets up to his shoulders.

“We used to do this,” he said, watching Steve's face closely.

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve replied, “we did, a long time ago.” It took everything he had to stop himself reaching out and wrapping himself around him.

Bucky leaned forward and softly pecked Steve’s unresisting lips.

“We used to do this too.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said, trying to hold back the sadness from his voice, “we did.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed but he didn't say anything. After a while, Steve drifted off, and when he woke up the next morning, Bucky was gone.

***

Steve was getting ready for bed when Bucky marched into his room, and took him by the shirt. 

“Bucky, what-”

“We used to do this, too,” he said, and kissed Steve, fiercely. They’d kissed a few more times after that night, getting comfortable with touching. They’d been getting closer, but this-

“Bucky,” Steve tried again. Bucky was hard against him. “I can't-”

“I want to, don't you want to?” he asked, pulling at Steve’s shirt, trying to take it off.

“I do Buck, but you-”

His hands stopped moving, and he looked Steve in the eye. “I want to.” 

Steve had to admit that Bucky had been doing better recently, had been more stable and now his hands were steady and his gaze clear. 

“Me too,” Steve said, “I want to.” 

Bucky smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, but Steve pulled back, just enough to slow him down. “I want to take our time,” he whispered. 

Bucky’s hands slowed down, sliding under Steve’s shirt to push it up, and Steve helped him take it off. 

Steve’s not sure how they made it back to his bed, but Bucky was canting Steve’s hips up to slide his pants off. He pressed his lips to the base of Steve’s half hard cock, nuzzling at his balls before moving lower. 

Steve moaned. He never thought he’d get this again, he never thought- Bucky’s tongue slid inside him and he grabbed at the sheets. “Bucky,” he moaned. 

He felt a finger push against him and he couldn't help thrusting up. He grabbed at his night stand and pulled out a bottle. “Use this.”

Bucky only considered it for a moment before he clicked it open. Steve tried to stay silent as Bucky pushed into him, but a small whimper escaped and Bucky’s fingers hesitated. 

“Don't stop,” Steve gasped, his back arching, trying to get more. 

Bucky’s fingers started to move again, and despite the pleasure and his inability to breathe, Steve was aware of Bucky watching him. He wanted more, he wanted Bucky to be closer but he couldn't bring himself to ask. 

Bucky’s fingers curled and he let out a moan. “Please,” he breathed, not sure what he was asking for, but Bucky was suddenly there, watching Steve’s face as he slowly, ever so slowly, pushed in. 

Steve had to close his eyes. He couldn’t take the overwhelming feeling of Bucky inside him, and watching him like this, without falling apart. 

Bucky leaned down and kissed him, and still so slowly he started thrusting. Steve’s hands grabbed at Bucky’s back, his hips, his ass, hard enough to leave bruises. He wanted this to last forever, it was bliss. 

“Bucky,” he whispered, but he couldn’t form any more words. The look Bucky gave him was knowing, his own emotions reflected at him. 

Bucky closed his eyes and ducked his head, pressing their foreheads together, breathing the same air. He curled a hand around Steve’s dick and Steve gasped, lifting his legs around Bucky’s waist, changing the angle as he did. 

Now Steve couldn't stop the moans, he was so close. Bucky was matching his strokes with every thrust and Steve could barely breathe. His grip tightened on Bucky’s waist, his ankles locking at the base of Bucky’s spine and he cried out as he came, eyes squeezed shut. 

When he came back to himself, he let go of Bucky, planting his feet on the bed and trying to give Bucky the best angle. Bucky’s hips started to move faster, his thrusts becoming erratic. He let out a whimper as he froze and he came. 

He collapsed next to Steve, his eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling, and Steve couldn't help but smile at him. 

Bucky caught him smiling and turned to lie on top of Steve, burying his face in Steve’s neck. 

“We're gonna be disgusting in the morning,” he whispered.

“Don't care,” Bucky muttered into Steve’s skin, “love you.”

Steve put an arm around him and pulled the sheets up around them. “I love you too,” he whispered. 

It _was_ disgusting in the morning but Steve couldn't bring himself to care. Bucky was still there.

***

The scars on Bucky’s arm never really healed, and it made the difference between his metal arm and flesh arm all the more stark for it. Steve liked to trace them sometimes, wondered what it would be like to draw them.

Bucky woke up with a start but his expression quickly adjusted as he recognised Steve. 

He stretched, pulling his arms out of reach before settling back down. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Nothing, just, thinking,” he said. 

Bucky grinned sleepily. “Don't hurt yourself.” When Steve didn’t reply, Bucky’s face became serious, “what’s wrong?”

“I love you,” Steve said.

Bucky laughed softly. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me,” he said, “sounds like the opposite of a problem. I love you too.” He smiled, “no problem.”

“Do you?” 

“Of course I do,” Bucky said, “You know I do.” He reached out with his metal hand and gently stroked Steve’s cheek. The metal fingers were skin-warm on his face, and Steve leaned into the touch. 

“How do you know?” 

“How do I know?” Bucky repeated, “I just do, just like I knew who you were, before I even knew who I was, I knew I loved you before I knew my own name. I know.”

Steve looked at Bucky and it was like he could feel the water all over again, the waves rushing up to meet him, the dark and the silence, and Bucky diving in after him. 

He couldn't breathe. 

He sat up. “You can’t-” he started, but he couldn't say it, couldn't get the words out. He stopped himself, took a breath, and another one. He unclenched his fists and then his jaws. 

“You can’t love me,” he said, “You can’t- you just think you do because I’m all you know.”

“What?” Bucky said, sitting up too. Steve sneaked a glance at him and- Bucky was mad.

“You’re still remembering, I shouldn’t have gotten involved-”

“You’re just going to have to trust me on this one,” Bucky said evenly, though Steve could hear the fury behind those words. He avoided Bucky’s face but he could see his metal hand fisting in the sheets in the corner of his vision.

“You’re better than this,” Steve continued, trying to keep his breathing even, “everything that’s happened is my fault. I thought we could help each other-”

“We are! Aren’t you-”

“Bucky, I can’t do this to you again.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky asked, leaning forward, “You want to leave? Fuck that, you’re not leaving me again. You’re right, you are all I know, but don’t you think if I wanted to know more I’d have gone looking?”

“You deserve better-”

“I don’t want anything else,” Bucky said, not hiding his anger anymore, “I’d rather die than live without you, don’t you get it? Do you still not get it? I’m with you till the end-”

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve interrupted quietly.

“I already did,” Bucky replied, more gently this time, his face softening. “And so did you, I just want to make sure next time it happens we’re not alone, don’t you?”

“I just-”

“Look, we can’t predict the future, there’s no planning any more. You have to take what you can get, right now,” he said, took a breath. “You can’t change how I feel, because I _do_ love you, just accept it and let yourself love me back. Don’t you love me?”

“Of course I do, Buck,” he replied, “I love you.”

“So it’s settled,” he said, leaning back on the bed, and pulling Steve down with him.

Steve let Bucky curl around him, and tried to relax. “Don’t leave me, Steve,” Bucky whispered into his neck, that place he left for secrets. “You left me once, please don't leave me again.”

Steve’s arms tighten around him, almost involuntarily. He could still feel the waves, washing over them both. “I won’t,” he replied, “I won’t leave you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [The post](http://yourethehellisbucky.tumblr.com/post/102144667858/hippity-hoppity-brigade-polytropic-liar) that started it all. 
> 
> [Instinctive drowning response](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Instinctive_drowning_response) on wikipedia.
> 
> Warnings: This story contains mentions of off-screen torture and there is a graphic scene where a character has a panic attack. Please keep your self safe <3 Feel free to [email](mailto:seratonation@gmail.com) me if you have any specific questions.


End file.
